


Dreams

by orphan_account



Series: 00Q Prompts [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Anxiety, But there are no details of anything, Communication skills achievement unlocked, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Sleep disorders, of unspecified past awfulness, psychologist, that happened in an abduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q still gets bad dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

James found him in the kitchen. The lights were all on and a cold cup of tea stood forgotten by his elbow. Q’s flinch when he entered the room told him all he needed to know, but if there was one thing their relationship had taught him, it was that you kept fighting for the other person, no matter what. So he took another step closer and gave his partner an encouraging smile.

“Can’t sleep?”

Q looked at him for the longest moment, half embarrassment, half resentment, and all exhaustion.

“I don’t want to.”

He waited.

“The dreams are back.”

Q’s eyes glazed over.

“I don’t want, Ja- I _can’t_ -”

James held out his hand.

Q hesitated, but slowly shuffled over, letting himself be drawn into the scarred, muscled chest that had a nook he fit in perfectly, into the arms that would fight off the world for him, towards the heart that loved him so much, was so patient…

Later, when James had wrapped them both into a pile of blankets, Q whispered into the dark:

“They seem so real.”

James pressed a gentle kiss into his hair.

“That’s because they were, Q. But not anymore. Not anymore.”

 


	2. Dreams Take Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James knows Q needs to sleep. And it's only getting worse.

 

The dreams were getting worse.

James woke abruptly, going from deep sleep to adrenaline-pumping wakefulness in a moment. A hitched breath drew his attention to the warm bundle under the blankets next to him.

“Q?”

The bundle ignored him. James reached out to caress his partner’s back, only wincing internally when Q flinched. James shuffled closer until their bodies were aligned chest to back.

“Just me, darling. It’s always just me.”

“Go to sleep, James.”

God, he sounded exhausted. James frowned, eyes flicking to the clock, adding hours in his head…

“Love, you’ve been awake for almost sixty hours. You need to rest.”

“I… I can’t.”

“A nap. Twenty minutes. I’ll be right here, I promise.”

James hummed an old tune as Q curled closer and closed his eyes.

 

 ***

 

James played classical music after dinner, no matter how late it was. He switched Q’s Earl Grey to Chamomile after ten, and threw out all the coffee in the house. He listened to Q explain every detail of their security system, hoping that Q would comfort himself in the knowledge of their safety. But still Q would push himself until the verge of collapse before he drifted unwillingly towards the bed.

James bought new sheets and pillows, experimenting with thread counts and discussed the benefits of feather of polyester pillows with a shop assistant for an hour because James Bond never does anything by halves. He even dragged Q around mattress shopping on a rare lazy Sunday afternoon. They didn’t find anything but Q’s kiss on his cheek was all the appreciation he needed.

After months of losing the battle against the dark smudges under his Quartermaster’s eyes, James Bond took it one step further.

 

 ***

 

“Mr Bond, how can I help you today?”

And Bond had to give the woman credit. She hadn’t even flinched when a double-oh had booked an appointment.

“Q can’t sleep.”

“Has this always been a problem?”

“It’s gotten worse…”

“Since his abduction?”

“Yes.”

The woman nodded and picked up her clipboard, a determined look settling across her features.

“OK. What have you tried so far?”

 

 ***

 

An hour later the psychologist flicked through her notes.

“I commend you on being thorough.”

“It hasn’t worked.”

“There are still some options. There’s medication, but due to the high-level ranking of the Quartermaster’s job, it isn’t allowed for them to be prescribed or recommended anything that may inhibit their work, such as sleeping through a call.”

“He wouldn’t take them anyway, he was drugged when we was with his captors.”

“So that’s another thing we can rule out. How does he sleep when you’re away?”

“From what the minions at Q-Branch have told me, he tends not to. We…” Bond sighed. “It was hard, when he came back. When he realised there was going to be prolonged issues with his recovery. I wasn’t in the house, we both thought that it would be better, that he could have his own space while he started sorting things out. After less than a fortnight he called me, and needed me back. And I needed to be there.”

The woman nodded.

“I ask not to insinuate that he would be better off without you, it’s clear that’s not the case. Any amount of stress right now is going to be multiplied in his head. I don’t know the details, but I presume M gave him leave?”

“He didn’t take it.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s probably felt this fear in the back of his head since he returned. It’s easier to ignore it, compartmentalise, distract yourself in order not to face it, or in the Quartermaster’s case, remember.”

“I am familiar with PTSD.”

“Which leads me to my next question. Dreaming about experiences can be more frightening or disorientating than having a flashback or simply being reminded of something when you’re awake, because there’s no sense of control there. In the actual dream, you can’t control what happens, and then you wake up and think that you have no control over your mind, even when you’re asleep. Gaining control over flashbacks and unwanted thoughts or memories is an important step in minimilising the nightmares. So, my question is, have you talked about it?”

Bond was quiet for a breath.

“I’ve read the report.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“I was on the retrieval team, I _saw_ -”

“Mr Bond, have you talked with your partner about what happened? About his nightmares?”

“No.”

“Would that be something you could consider?”

“If it would help him, _yes_ , but…”

“What are your reservations?”

“Because I don’t talk! I’m a double-oh, you of all people should know we don’t talk about what happens in the field! We just get on with the job! I don’t know how to… talk it out. I don’t spend my working days talking to people like you do.”

The woman’s brows furrowed neatly.

“Mr Bond, I don’t spend my day talking with people. I spend my day listening.”

 

 ***

 

“Q, love?”

Q looked up from the lounge, placing his halfway down the page he was reading, highlighter poised in his right hand. Bach was playing on the sound system tonight, the methodical rhythms and steady melodies offering a layer of calm over the otherwise hectic day.

“James?”

“Have you got a moment?”

“God yes, I’m going over the budget quarterlies. Please distract me.”

James walked over and settled next to his partner, going over the words in his head one last time.

“I went to MI6’s psych today.”

Q stiffened slightly.

“For you, or for me?”

“For both of us. This affects both of us.”

Q looked at him, questions and dread battling in his eyes.

“I realise,” James went on. “That we’ve never talked about what happened. When they took you.”

“You read the report.”

“It’s not the same. Q, I know-”

“Please don’t.” A tremor started up through Q’s shoulders and James wanted nothing more than to wrap him up and hide him away from the world. “I don’t want to, please don’t, James.”

James reached out and gently took one of Q’s hands, running his fingers over the knuckles, feeling the soft skin, the scrape of calluses, the tiny scars.

“I’ve never talked about what happens in the field.”

Q stared at him, eyes wide.

“I’m not saying we have to have this discussion now, but if you want to… When you want to, I’ll be right here.”

James leant forward slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to Q’s temple, enjoying the closeness for a moment before standing back up.

“I’ve got a training with some of the new recruits tomorrow morning. I told them to meet me at four.”

Q smiled.

“And when will you get there?”

James shrugged.

“I was thinking of having a sleep-in. Might wander in around nine.”

“You’re a cruel person, Mr Bond.”

“You love it.”

Q chuckled before standing up, too.

“James?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking… I might take a hot water bottle to bed. Maybe if I have something warm on my chest, and have you at my back, I might recognise where I am faster?”

James gave him his most genuine smile, the one that reached all the way into his eyes, the one that made him look like an untouched man, the one that was saved only for Q.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to continue this prompt, but I wanted desperately to give them some comfort. Of course I've had no psychology training, so take everything with a handful of salt. :)


End file.
